The Committee (Middle East Literature in Translation)

by Sun' Allah Ibrahim

  I thought back over where my life had been heading before the Committee interviewed me and how I suffered humiliation at its "hand." However, I didn't forget that the assigned research had given some meaning to my life after a long spell of hopelessness.

  I opened my eyes to find him looking at me.

  I laughed, hoping it would be infectious, and said in a voice I tried to keep normal, "How about a cup of coffee? I absolutely can't keep my eyes open."

  "As you like."

  We went to the kitchen. I looked at the small mirror hanging in the hall and saw that my eyes were bloodshot.

  When we reached the kitchen I asked him, "Have you any objection to drinking Turkish coffee this time?"

  He c.idn't reply; he was busy checking the contents of the "Hall Library" as I called it. I interpreted his last response as acceptance.

  I took the medium-sized coffeepot from one of the shelves and asked him again, "How do you prefer yours?"

  "Not too much sugar."

  He picked up the closest book and began to turn its pages with one eye still on me. I couldn't find a small spoon on the drain board, so I opened the utensil drawer. My eyes went right to the butcher knife, that large, shiny blade with a tapered tip.

  My -zeart leaped between my ribs. I got ahold of myself and took the spoon that I wanted, then closed the drawer.

  I put the coffee and sugar in the pot, filled it with water, stirred the mixture well, and put it on the small burner I had lit.

  I washed the spoon and dried it, then opened the drawer and set the spoon by the knife, looking at its sharp edge. Without taking my eyes off the knife, I pushed the drawer in slowly, deliberately leaving it ajar.

  I stood in front of the coffeepot until it began to bubble and then foam up as it came to a boil. It surged higher until it almost overflowed the rim.

  I quickly removed it from the heat and turned off the burner. I put two cups beside it.

  For the first time in ages, I felt strength and purpose pervade my being.

  F I V E

  This time when I arrived for my appointment, the Committee had already gathered. The old porter admitted me at once.

  I found its members, naturally except for Stubby, seated behind a long table set crosswise in the hall. They were in the same order I had seen the previous time, with the decrepit old man who couldn't see or hear in the middle.

  I noted the unmitigated atmosphere of mourning evidenced by the black ribbons on their jacket collars and the floral wreaths arranged at one side of the room, each wrapped with shiny black cloth. Also attached to each was a memorial placard with the name of the sender in prominent letters.

  The members of the Committee began to eye me, though still examining the files in front of them. Mean while, curious, I read the names of the mourners. Right in front I discovered the names of the American president Carter and his wife, the first lady, his vice president, Walter Mondale, and his national security advisor, Brzezinski. I also saw the names of his predecessor, Kissinger, and several former American presidents such as Nixon and Ford, as well as of Rockefeller, Rothschild, MacNamara (president of the World Bank), the president of Coca-Cola, directors of international banks, presidents of companies that manufacture weapons, chewing gum, drugs, cigarettes, electronics, and petroleum, and in addition, the leaders of France, West Germany, England, Italy, Austria, the heads of Mercedes, Peugeot, Fiat, Bedford, Boeing, and the emperor of Japan.

  I easily found the names of the Israeli prime minister, Begin, and his ministers Dayan and Weizman; and the presidents of the military governments of Chile, Turkey, Pakistan, Indonesia, the Philippines, and Bolivia; and of Mubutu (the president of Zaire), and of Arab kings and presidents; members of the former shah of Iran's family; Mama Doc (the first lady of Haiti); the presidents of Communist China and Romania, of both North and South Korea, and the leaders of the Australian people.

  The names of many luminaries from the Arab world were there: directors of leading political parties, senior officials in charge of security, information, defense, planning, and construction, the authorized agents of foreign companies, not to mention the more luminous "doctors," among them my well-known countryman.

  When I finally turned my attention to the Committee members, I sensed that since the last time I had seen them they had undergone some change I couldn't put my finger on. This aroused my curiosity further. I looked them over, searching for some explanation. Their scowling faces weren't new to me. In spite of the dark glasses most of them wore, I recognized the same individuals I had met twice before.

  Unable to think, for a third time I failed to count them. Nevertheless I was certain their number hadn't changed, except, of course, for Stubby. His place next to the old man was empty. It was swathed in black, like his picture, which hung on the wall as a reminder of his demise.

  I solved the mystery only after looking at the old maid several times. When I noticed she was wearing a military uniform with red ribbons edged in gold, I finally realized what I had been oblivious to from the beginning.

  Perhaps I was so slow to figure this out because I was accustomed to seeing three officers among the Committee members. This number had registered in my unconscious from the first moment. I was content with it and didn't pay attention to their identities. To me, they all looked alike because of the uniforms.

  Now I looked closely at the other officers to determine their sex and identities. I searched for the third until, with difficulty, I found him. Wearing civilian clothes had greatly altered his appearance.

  This phenomenon really piqued my curiosity. Having been trained by the events of the last year to solve mysteries and riddles, my mind raced, trying to come up with an explanation.

  Formerly, I had believed the Committee was a combination of civilians and officers. But, as I had seen today, the change in dress shook this belief to its foundations. It could mean only one of two things: the Committee consists entirely of officers, some of whom sometimes wear civilian clothes, or it consists of civilians, some of whom sometimes wear military uniforms.

  In neither case was there any significance to the change. Actually, abandoning the uniforms could be considered a weakening of the military streak in the Committee. For a fleeting moment this hope was inviting, in view of the reputation soldiers have for cruelty and bloodthirstiness. That the old maid wore a uniform intensified this hope, since she, by virtue of her femininity (frustrated though it be) was more humane. On the contrary, I soon saw that for this very reason, it was a confirmation rather than a weakening of the military streak.

  Using the Committee's language, the chairman snapped me out of my reverie when he said in a sonorous and mournful tone, "Let us begin today by pausing for five minutes to mourn the departed." The members pushed back their chairs and stood. I didn't move because I was already standing. The Committee does not allow anyone to sit in its presence.

  I raised my eyes to the picture of the deceased hanging on the wall behind the chairman. I stared into his eyes, in sympathy with the Committee members. While the five minutes crawled by, I tried to concentrate on remembering the way his eyes had moved, each in its own direction, during his full life.

  The chairman cleared his throat a number of times, as though he was charging a battery that powered his voice. Then he began to address his colleagues. Looking all the while at the floral wreaths, as though in actuality addressing their senders, he hurriedly said,

  "Your honors, respected members. This is one of those exceptional times when the Committee has convened to discuss a matter at variance with its normal experience. This is the third time we have gathered on account of the departed. If my memory serves, the first time was in the mid-50s, when we decided to admit him to the Committee. I still remember him as he was then, full of youth and vitality. The next time was the year before last, when we celebrated his winning the Golden Eagle Prize in recognition of his efforts to serve the Committee's goals.

  "Truly, the departed played an important
role in devising most of the impressive transformations that have taken place around us and in molding the form in which they materialized.

  "The possibility of fulfilling the dreams of mankind and putting an end to all the dangers that threatened the human race is unfolding. They had arisen in the '50s, but were buried in the '60s and early '70s and due to our colleague's role are again springing up.

  "Here we refer to that old dream of global unity or a United States of the Earth, in which all the inhabitants of the planet would be incorporated into a homogeneous state fostering prosperity and attempting to provide a better life.

  "This underscores the depth of the loss afflicting us. The cause of civilization and progress has suffered, as well as the causes of socialism, peace, and democracy."

  He paused a moment to give the others an opportunity to deduce the conclusion he was leading up to, then resumed, "In all our dealings we have been careful to remain disassociated from any direct connection to official bodies and executive authorities, in spite of the rumors that have clung to us and that on several occasions have had a basis in reality. These rumors cast doubt on the aforementioned precept, although, in truth, they confirmed it.

  "Now we are faced with a similar situation whose seriousness forces us to attend to it. You well know its implicat=ons for the future.

  "What compounds the delicacy of the situation is the anguish and distress you are now subjected to, through being directly confronted by the pair of hands stained with the blood of your comrade."

  An angry muttering arose among the members, none of whom took their eyes off me even once. I found myself compelled to speak. In contrast to what I expected, my vcice came out shaky, using words other than those I had p-epared.

  "I hope you can find it in your hearts to let me present my side. I am sure you will be so magnanimous and generous as to allow me to speak Arabic in order to better express myself. You may be sure that I share in the pain of your loss, for it is a loss to us all."

  The Blond interrupted me angrily, "You will speak when we give you permission."

  The old man took a sip of water from the cup in front of him, then continued, "From the beginning the Com mittee has put itself at the service of revolutionary objectives, ethical principles, and religious values. Its members have supported everything that would strengthen basic freedoms and expand the democratic process.

  "Naturally, we thus aroused the animosity of evil and destructive elements, which did their utmost to resist us. In this connection, let me draw your attention to the carefully manufactured uproar over the methods we use in our work and to the charges, sometimes of sadism and sometimes of demagoguery, that are liberally levied against us.

  "These forces have always tried to link us to political coups d'etat, sectarian massacres, and limited conflicts happening now in the Arab world, and even to some unexplained suicides, a few sporadic incidents of persons missing without a trace, and other persons who fell from rooftops or were killed in chance traffic accidents.

  "However, the attack on our comrade represents a dangerous escalation of these activities, something that requires your special attention. Your duty might seem clear because the criminal stands before you and admits to the heinous crime, but nevertheless, there's more to this than meets the eye, and your job is to get to the bottom of it."

  The old man appeared worn out. He leaned back in his chair as if to make room for his colleagues. The old maid, now in uniform, was the first to address me,

  "You may speak now."

  Her voice was gentle, but her allusion to the Blond's response intensified its underlying harshness, since it implied support for his anger.

  I'd truly been careful to observe their looks, the way they held their heads, and their tone of voice, in short, all the signs that might predict the fate awaiting me.

  This didn't mean I was yielding to despair. Even before I arrived I was prepared for the worst. From the beginning I hadn't denied anything or tried to justify the act. On the other hand, I felt no regret since I was convinced that what had happened was inevitable.

  Thus I had prepared my defense as an attack on the Committee. I chose powerful words. Inasmuch as the result was preordained, there was no harm in protecting my dignity and meeting the inevitable with pride and disdain.

  However, as soon as I faced the Committee and heard the chairman's words, my resolve vanished. My voice came out shaky and weak, whereas I had intended it to ring firmly through the hall, proud and accusing.

  Using the Committee's language, I said, my voice fading away, "Thank you for the opportunity you have granted me to address you. I would like to affirm yet again my awareness of the depth of your loss. It isn't every day the Committee loses one of its members." (I smiled in spite of myself, but they, naturally, did not smile in response.)

  "I am telling the truth in saying that when I came today, I did not plan to defend myself. I acknowledge what I did and am willing to face the consequences. Because of this, I am hopeful that my story, my good intentions, and the circumstances will intercede for me.

  "I believe you know very well that I have never before committed a violent act. I'm just an ordinary man who prefers as much peace and quiet as possible. The daring acts others speak of and brag about have no connection with me other than as the stuff of stories and novels.

  "When I appeared before you the first time, my only goal was to obtain your approval, since I understood it was the only way to develop and demonstrate my talents, especially as the most gifted people had already appeared before you.

  "The developments that came afterward were basically due to a desire for knowledge. What I did to your colleague, or to be more accurate, to his chest, was only the natural reaction of a simple person in a situation of self-defense."

  The chairman cut me off, "But you stated immediately that he had not attacked you or tried to harm you."

  "That's true," I said, "but he carried a revolver. Therefore, from the beginning there was an implied threat of violence. It is certain that if I had not done away with him quickly, he would never have left me in peace. I don't want to defend my position. What I do desire is that you take into consideration the state of my nerves and mind and the fact that I didn't sleep at all while he was with me, not to mention how he dogged my every step."

  Staring at me with his merciless light-colored eyes, the Blond leaned toward me and said, "So you want us to buy this picture of a well-intentioned, innocent man you're trying to sell us?"

  As I had noticed, he always used-intentionallythe distinctive idioms of the Committee's language. These were expressions which I admired.

  I said, "I'm not selling anything, although today anything can be bought and sold, as the study I undertook on the Doctor proved to me. I am simply stating the truth."

  He laughed derisively, "Perhaps you think us naive. You must know that from the first moment you stood before us, we realized that you say one thing and think another. Your answers to the questions we posed were pat and precise, which aroused our suspicions.

  "If there was one of us who still wavered, he came to a decision when you used the assigned study as a pretext for prying into the Doctor's past and for collecting information on him. You insisted on continuing this study in spite of the various warnings sent your way."

  He now directed himself to the Committee members, "All the evidence confirms that we are facing a great conspiracy. For some time its threads have been woven very skillfully and maliciously. The attack on the deceased's life is nothing but another thread in the tapestry."

  I got very upset at what the Blond said. Matters were moving in a surprising direction that had not occurred to me, and the result could only be extremely damaging to my position.

  Laughing and making every attempt to appear innocent and congenial, not to mention ingenuous, I quickly said, "Your honor possesses an active imagination. Surely you don't take what you say seriously?"

  He shot back angrily, "Deviousness won't do you any
good. "

  "I assure you I'm innocent."

  "Do you also retract your confession?" he asked in reproof.

  I replied, "I'm not trying to exonerate myself ... I'm trying to say there is no plot, or if there is, then I don't know about it."

  He said triumphantly, "Aha, so you do acknowledge the existence of a plot."

  Frightened, I said, "Never. I only wanted to affirm once again . . . "

  The Blond signaled to one of the members seated at the end of the table, who then took out a tape recorder and placed it on top of the table.

  The Blond addressed the Committee members, "I will now show you, your honors, how, with his own tongue, he admitted the existence of his accomplices."

  The member turned on the tape recorder. I heard a strange noise which I soon identified as water falling onto a hard surface. Then a man spoke, expressing his surprise at the black color of the water. I recognized Stubby's voice and began to tremble.

  I heard my voice say, "You must use a water filter."

  Stubby's voice followed, surprised, "Yes, how did you know?"

  And finally my voice, "I have learned many things recently."

  The Blond signaled the operator, who turned the recorder off and addressed me scornfully, "Isn't this your voice?"

  "Certainly ... But that doesn't mean ..."

  He didn't let me continue, but shouted, "How did you come to know this bit of information about our companion that we ourselves didn't know unless you had accomplices who supplied you with information?"

  The old maid entered the conversation, "This plot didn't necessarily exist from the beginning. Maybe it was hatched later. His statement that he had learned many things recently indicates this."

  She went on to address me, "It would be better for you, because it would mean that your intentions were innocent in the beginning, but that you fell under the influence of deviants, destructive elements. If you tell us their names, it might go a long way toward mitigating the consequences for you."